Pleasure & Pain
by sweetbabymomma
Summary: We want him to suffer," said Claire. "We want him to hurt. We want him to know what we felt when he killed our parents." Sylar/Claire/Elle


**Title:** Pleasure & Pain

**Author:** sweet_babymomma

**Word Count:** 1305

**Pairing:** Sylar/Claire/Elle

**Rating:** M (Hard R)

**Warnings:** language, sex, BDSM, dub con, knife play, blood play, death

**A/N:** written for **Heroes Threesomes Kink Meme** in **heroes3somes** LJ comm

Thanks to the amazing **hiding_duh** or betaing this mess.

PLEASURE & PAIN

He didn't like it. Not a tiny bit.

«Ten blade,» said Claire.

«Ten blade,» echoed Elle.

The damn blade caught the light, making Sylar swallow hard and close his eyes again. He felt dizzy and nauseous. His back ached from the position. Naked, with his wrists cuffed above his head to the headboard and his legs spread apart and tied to the foot of the bed, his body string-taut, he felt more exposed and helpless than ever. His steel-hearted blond angels moved about with panthers' grace, eying him shamelessly.

«Are you awake, honey?» asked Elle, patting him on the cheek not so gently.

Giggling, Claire fisted her hand in his hair and yanked his head back for a rough kiss. She was new to this game. Sylar could only hope that Elle had explained the rules to her. But when Claire bit his lips hard enough to draw blood he smiled against her mouth, thinking that maybe she hadn't – and that was for the better.

«What do you want from me?» he played along, his voice weak and hoarse.

«What do we want from him, Claire?» laughed Elle, mimicking him, and handed the scalpel over to Claire. «The choice is yours!»

«We want him... to suffer?» Claire answered half-quizzically, bringing the scalpel to Sylar's throat. «We want him to hurt. We want him to know what we felt when he killed our parents.»

Elle's face darkened.

«Give me that scalpel,» she ordered.

The first cut felt like a burn – the skin on Sylar's stomach turned scarlet while splitting in two. He yelped in pain, writhing in his restraints. This is when Sylar noticed the drip bottle attached to his arm. _Curare_. He recognized the sick feeling it was giving him. This damn thing annihilated all of his powers, everything that made him special. This poison made him a regular guy, a contemptible, pathetic watchmaker Gabriel Gray. It had been a dirty little secret Sylar shared with one Indian (and obviously mouthy!) geneticist.

Looks like it was out now.

«Yeah,» - murmured Elle as she noticed him looking at the drip bottle. «I thought we'd upgrade our game. Just to make it more exciting. You don't mind it, do you?»

Sylar felt a momentary flash of panic. What if they ganged up to kill him?.. _No_, he soothed himself, _this just can't be_. This was Elle for God's sake! This was his Elle...

Hot blood spouted from his wound, staining Elle's hands. A few drops landed on her cheek and lips and she licked them as if she were a vampire.

«He's too loud,» she said busily to Claire. «I think we need to gag him.»

«Shhh,» whispered Claire, placing the blade flat against his lips. «Be quiet. We've only started!»

Sylar licked the cold steel, trying to suppress the smirk.

«Do you enjoy torturing me?» he asked.

«Do you enjoy being tortured?» she returned, cutting his cheek.

«Oh he does,» - answered Elle pointedly. «Just have a look...»

Smiling wickedly, Claire draw a thin red line from his throat to his groin.

«Can you grow yourself a new one?» she asked lightheartedly, circling the base of his (deceitfully hard, oh shit!) cock with a blade.

«Bitch,» he spat. «Let me go! Elle... That's not funny!»

«Why, is anybody laughing?» Elle retorted, her eyes blue as ice and just as cold. «Do you like being a victim, Gabriel? Is it fun?»

Before he could answer, she kissed him, parting his lips with her tongue as her hand slid down his body to squeeze his cock a bit too roughly. Her sharp nails caught his skin, and Sylar shifted uncomfortably, letting out a whimpering sound, but her grip only tightened.

«Mmm,» she said grinning. «You're moaning so prettily. I can get used to it.»

As if to emphasize the point, Elle drew a heart on his chest. With a scalpel.

Claire chuckled.

«I wanna play too!» she drawled, outstretching her hand for the blade.

Elle's hand was sticky with his blood, when she gave the other girl her weapon.

Soon things became messy. Sylar has had never been much of a masochist, but this felt strangely exciting. The girls were too high on power high to really care about his feelings. Each sweet kiss or a tender touch earned him another cut or sometimes he was getting a cut _instead_ of a kiss until he couldn't tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

Claire was the first to go down on him. She was biting him, scratching his skin with her teeth like an angry little angry witch, but was still giving him the best head ever. His good-turned-bad little girl kept taking the whole length of him into her mouth and down her throat, her larynx clenching pleasurably around his cock with each deep thrust. But as he was about to come, she released him and licked her lips, making Sylar groan in frustration.

«Please,» he heard himself plead. «Please, Claire...»

«Get him off, Claire,» Elle supported him. «Show him your good side.»

But Claire only shook her head.

«Nope,» she said with decision. «We are not here to please him. We are here to _punish_ him,» she moved away from Sylar making room for the other girl. «Your turn.»

Sighing, Elle guided his achingly hard cock inside her and, bracing her palms against the sore skin of his chest, started moving up and down. Her eyes clenched shut and her pretty pink mouth opened in bliss as she was riding him faster and faster. One of Elle's hands snaked between her thighs, rubbing vigorously, and her head fell back, and...

«Watch it, Elle! Watch_ him_!»

But it was too late – Elle was already lost in pleasure, moaning loudly. With an angry growl Claire moved to their victim and lifted his head up by his chin. A moment before Sylar followed Elle over the edge, he felt the cold steel press against his neck.

«Good-bye, handsome,» murmured Claire, kissing the tip of his nose.

A surge of pleasure, a flash of pain – and then everything faded to black.

***

«Gabriel.»

The voice was distant and faint, buzzing obtrusively somewhere in the back of his mind. Sylar wanted to shake it off and dive into the darkness again, but the voice was persistent in dragging him back to reality.

_«Gabriel._Wake up.»

«It's been too long,» said another voice. «He couldn't just... Right, Elle?»

«Of course not,» snorted Elle. «He'll be fine.»

But she sounded worried too. Sylar allowed them to slap him on the cheek and to freak out when they got no reaction from his part.

«Oh my god, oh my god,» bubbled Claire, her voice panicky. «I didn't mean to kill him _for real_!»

«Then why did you slit his throat?» snapped Elle. «What is wrong with you Bennets? Is it some kind of obsession?»

«Wait,» interrupted Claire. «Look! Haven't his lashes just fluttered?»

_Damn._

They stepped closer watching him intensely.

_Time to wake up._

Sylar took a sharp breath – only to choke on blood that was still left in his freshly healed throat. He was already uncuffed, so he sat up and tried to cough the blood out of his lungs, feeling his eyes water from exertion. One of the girls (he was too busy coughing his guts out to figure out which one) handed him a soft white cloth to wipe his mouth.

«You're back!» twittered Elle, smiling nervously.

«Yeah!» squeaked Claire with the same amount of fake enthusiasm.

Sylar smirked devilishly, looking at their pale faces and scared eyes. They knew they'd gone too far. What his girls didn't know is that how proud it made him feel.


End file.
